


Not an Addict

by definehome



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: writerinadrawer, Gen, WriterInADrawer 4.02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-17
Updated: 2010-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 04:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definehome/pseuds/definehome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Torchwood is exhausting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not an Addict

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a short-duration writing contest.
> 
> Prompt: Things That Go Thump In the Night. Someone is woken from their sleep by a strange or unexpected sound.
> 
> Added Element: Two words in any foreign language(s). They can both be from the same language or mix and match.
> 
> Beta: Demotu
> 
> Word Count: 300

Owen hadn't been napping, only lying down and resting his eyes, when a clatter jerked him to his feet. There was something else there, sharing the shadows of the autopsy bay. Something that was now frozen and breathing so lightly that Owen had to hold his own breath to detect it. A form moved in the dimness, taking one slow step forward, then another. When Ianto was distinguishable in dream-like grays, Owen's heartbeat evened out.

"Just restocking," Ianto offered with only a hint of defiance. Owen ignored him and stooped to pick up the pill bottle that had struck the floor. He rotated it and read the label in the dim light.

Ianto licked his lips slowly and almost, _almost_, seductively. In that moment, Owen saw what had attracted Jack to this particular new hire. Still, an addict, whether in a London A&amp;E or the Hub, was an addict.

"I don't need your help to pull, domo-arigato," Owen sneered and panic blossomed in Ianto's eyes.

"We... I can't go anywhere else."

Owen scrubbed at his face. That Canary Wharf massacre had tied this poor kid to Torchwood as surely as it had tied him to the drugs. He could fix one of those conditions, but he was far too tired to do anything tonight. Owen pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out in a huff.

"Fine. Rehab as _I_ tell you to and don't go anywhere else for drugs, capiche?"

"Yes," Ianto whispered; Owen dropped the bottle into Ianto's out stretched hand. "She... I... Thanks."

Ianto slipped backwards into the dark, down to some hole in the basement or wherever it was he liked to lurk when unneeded. Owen eyed the autopsy table; he'd make it home, sure, but first he'd lie down, just for a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.


End file.
